


1 Out of 8 Ministers

by Ruuger



Category: QI (TV) RPF, The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-24 13:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: Nicola ends up as a guest panelist on QI.  It goes about as well as you'd expect.





	1 Out of 8 Ministers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apacketofseeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apacketofseeds/gifts).



"And what a lot of people don't know, haha, is that this was the reason why the council tax went up by point two per cent the next year, so, uh, that, uh, that was a kinda of an interesting detail?" 

The silence in the studio was deafening. Nicola could feel heat rising on her cheeks as she surveyed the blank faces of the audience in front of her. Christ, even Jimmy Carr's joke about Jordan's kid had gotten better reception. 

Next to her, Stephen Fry cleared his throat. "Well, QI is certainly all about celebrating trivia, no matter how obscure, but I must say that your story truly puts the trivial in trivia."

"I don't know", Jimmy Carr said, "Raising the tax in that situation is would be a bit like milking a, uh..." He hesitated.

"Cow?" Nicola said automatically.

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, realising too late that he'd tricked her into saying the obvious answer that even she had known to avoid. The klaxon blared, and the word COW began flashing on the screen behind her.

As the audience and her co-panelists exploded with laughter, Nicola gamely tried to laugh along even though what she really wanted was to hide under her desk and never come out. She risked a glance towards the side of the stage where he knew Malcolm would be, but he was nowhere in sight. Probably on the phone with the PM about replacing her with someone wittier. Like one of Glenn's ties.

"Before we move on to the next question," Stephen Fry said, "the voice in my ear is telling me that we need to take a short break now, because one of our producers has had to leave due to-" he frowned. "-some news breaking out on Twitter."

As a woman with headphones and a clipboard ran over and began urgently whispering something to Stephen Fry, Nicola sighed with relief. 

"I'll, uh, I'll need to go and use the little girls room, if that's OK?" The woman with the clipboard gave her an absentminded thumbs-up as she lead Stephen Fry off stage. Nicola tried to remove her microphone, but it had somehow become entangled with her bra strap, and as one of the runners helped her to take it off, she could hear Bob Mortimer begin to tell the audience a story about how he always uses his mother's old bra as a strainer when making cheese.

Once free, Nicola headed down the corridor towards the bathrooms. She didn't really need to go, but she was idly considering slipping out a window and making a run for it, or - if the window was too small - just drowning herself in the toilet bowl. She turned the corner to find Malcolm waiting for her. Fuck.

"It was like watching a cow being molested by a dying seal," he said, "except not as funny because the cow kept droning on about the fucking council tax."

As if on cue, Nicola heard Jimmy Carr's laughter echo from the soundstage.She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate, her breath catching at every bark of laughter. She opened her purse and rummaged inside. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she'd left her Rescue remedy at home. She threw away the purse and poked Malcolm in the chest with her finger. "You, you, you are the reason why I'm here! I told you I'm not funny or witty, that's the one thing that everyone seems to agree about me! So why the fuck did I have to go on fucking QI to prove it to the whole fucking nation just because you have a fucking hard-on for Stephen Fry!"

She lost her strain of thought when Malcolm suddenly put his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer. "Nicola," he whispered, almost gently. "Fix your hair and make-up. You look like Worzel Gummidgeon after two day bender."

A runner appeared from around the corner, and Nicola reflexively stepped away from Malcolm. "Five minutes, Mrs. Murray."

"Right, yes, thank you." She turned around to face Malcolm again, but he was nowhere to be seen.

When Nicola returned back to her place, she found a bottle of rescue remedy on her seat, and underneath it a few neatly folded sheets of paper. There was a post it on the top sheet with _I had to blow Fry to get these. I hope you appreciate the effort._ written on it in Malcolm's handwriting. When she looked at the papers, she found a printed out list of questions and answers, and on the last page another post-it with a crude drawing of what she assumed was supposed to be some sort of marine animal with Jimmy Carr's face, and the words _If he goes after you again, ask him how much he pays taxes._

**Author's Note:**

> With my sincerest apologies to Jimmy Carr. Sorry Jimmy, I like you, but you kinda deserve it.


End file.
